We ushered into the warm glow of a wine bar at around 10pm, shaking off the cold and squirming between bodies for a place at the counter. Slightly larger than a walk-in closet, the space was crowded with bottles and black sheep. Behind the counter, a man bent to retrieve something under the counter, studious, deliberate. I would quickly come to know him as Lukas Fetteira, one of the owners. Bruna Aguiar, co-owner, stood next to him and spoke animatedly with a pair at the bar. A row of wine glasses was arranged between them.
For the first time in weeks, I was excited to try some wines. The year was ending and my palette was fatiguing after an intense program of tastings, trips and studies. I remembered loving wine. But the cold winter in Lisbon was turning me inwards, towards the Writer, and my motivation to taste had fizzled.
At the bar, though, a spark of curiosity flashed through the dark recesses of my mood and pulled me forward, my hand on the bar, a hesitant smile on my lips.
I asked if I could try a few things before deciding, like I saw the couple do before me. Bruna said of course, that’s why you’re here! My smile turned easy, engaged, and I listened attentively to her stories and tasting notes while turning the glass in my hand and sticking my nose in deep. The aromas of cherry and earth.
We do this at home, only the two of us, just talking about producers. So for us, here’s kinda like welcoming people into our living room in a way.
Lukas said, in an after-hour interview he was kind enough to give, dividing a bottle between my entourage of eager wine friends. We peppered him with questions.
Fun. This was fun again. No pressure, no exams. Just tasting and talking about wine.
From the very beginning, on the first day of my first harvest, wine has sparked my curiosity. Enough to pack my bags, leave stability, and figure out what exactly made it so special. I am still discovering. On that cold winter night, tucked into a cozy wine closet tasting flight after flight of carefully selected, small production wines, I gained another piece of understanding.
The wine bar is called The Black Sheep, a reference to the owners’ Brazilian origins. The pair are now transplanted in Lisbon, Portugal running one of the first wine bars I recommend with dogged insistence, should someone ever find themselves hiking the steep streets of the vibrant coastal city.
Over the years, they’ve formed tight relationships with winemakers, cultivating a mutual exchange of trust and feedback. Bruna and Lukas regularly share their notes and the producers know The Black Sheep for its quality and business integrity. Instead of hunting down great wines, producers now approach them and those relationships have an exponentially positive impact – both on the business and its hoard of loyal customers. Myself included.